


Tuesday Night; A Lit-Up Apartment

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drinking & Talking, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Fluff at end, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3288782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus and Lily at home worrying about James and Sirius. (Set the evening of the 800 word James and Sirius and motorbike prequel.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuesday Night; A Lit-Up Apartment

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I'm not really sure what this is, I meant to make it the same length as the prequel but it's ended up twice that, also this was supposed to be lighthearted Lily and Remus complaining about their boyfriends in a but-we-love-them-really way, but, whatever, it is what it is. 
> 
> Thanks to S for looking over this, any remaining mistakes are mine.

The apartment building in the middle of London was dark, windows as dim as dead eyes and all the inhabitants asleep behind thick curtains in their respective beds. Dark, except for the bright, yellow light that was glowing in the window of one of the third floor flats, shining through the flimsy film of a set of floral curtains and lighting up the surrounding stone with a strange glow. Above the apartment building, in the sky and almost hidden by the persistent English cloud cover, the moon was just past full. It was close to midnight, well past the time that people, in the most general sense, would consider an acceptable bedtime for a Tuesday night; however, in the window of the lit-up apartment, there were two figures visible moving around in the kitchen.

The smaller figure, a petite woman, was fetching a bottle of wine from the fridge, and a tall, thin man wearing an ugly brown cardigan was reaching into the top cupboards for two glasses. The man—the colour and fit of whose heavily darned cardigan was probably illegal in several more fashion-concerned countries around the world— placed them on the counter in the middle of the room, and the woman poured a generous amount of wine into each glass. They seemed to be in the middle of a serious conversation, all solemn tones and stony faces. 

“I don’t know, Remus,” the woman was saying. “They could be up to anything.” She took a wand out from the back pocket of her faded denim jeans and waved it, two chairs drawing themselves up to opposite sides of the kitchen counter. She and Remus sat down and each pulled a glass toward them.

“I know. Bloody Order, never let us know—” Remus said. He frowned, and seemed to chew briefly on the inside of his bottom lip. "They’ll be fine. They know what they’re doing, really.”

She nodded and took a large gulp of her wine. Her hair was bright and coppery under the kitchen lights, and her cheeks looked a healthy pink. By contrast, Remus looked tired and ill, and he was sporting the remnants of a black eye as well as several just-healing cuts to the hands and face.

“I just— I suppose I didn’t ever really think about what we were signing up for,” Lily said, glancing around her. “I knew there’d be a risk, but I never thought about all this being stuck around at home and just— waiting for the worst to happen.” She laughed in a tone that was very close to bitter; it didn’t sit well on her. “Bloody Dumbledore.”

Remus’ mouth twisted very slightly. “Indeed.” He seemed to swallow the rest of his words, washing them down with another mouthful of wine. They were both quiet for a few moments, the ghost of all that had gone unsaid, worries and bitterness, thickening the air. Remus idly tapped his fingernail against the rim of his wine glass, turning to stare out the window, and Lily looked down to fidget with a hole in her jeans.

“You haven’t seen Peter recently, have you?” Lily asked eventually, looking up. She seemed to have deemed this a more comfortable topic of conversation, but by the slight tightening in Remus' forehead at the mention of Peter's name, it would appear that she had misjudged. “I haven’t, and James says he hasn't either.”

“No. Ah, well,” Remus said, and this time he grimaced in earnest. “Aside from two days ago— you know—" here Remus paused slightly to look down at the cuts on his forearms, examining his body with some distaste "—and he took off in the morning before I was even conscious, apparently.”

“Oh, dear,” Lily said. “It was a tough one, then?” Remus was still looking out the window, mouth set in a tight line, and she sighed. “That’s not particularly characteristic of Peter though, is it? I suppose he has his reasons.” She sighed again, this time more forcefully. “It’s so hard to do, well— anything, anymore.” She drained her glass— impressive, considering it was almost half full— and shuddered slightly as the taste of alcohol hit the back of her throat, but reached for the bottle again nonetheless. “More wine?”

“Please,” Remus said. He glanced briefly in her direction, then went back to staring out the window, mouth pressed into a tight line. Neither of them spoke as Lily unscrewed the cap on the top of the bottle, and poured wine into both their glasses until they were filled nearly to the brim.

“I figure there’s not much point doing it by halves,” she said, as Remus took his glass and made a little frown at the amount of wine in it. “Sorry.”

“No, it's fine,” Remus said dully. “This is very civilised; in our flat we’re usually drinking straight from the bottle.” 

“I did consider it,” Lily said, trying for a light tone. “But what other chance am I going to have to use the proper glasses? It’s not like it’s the sort of time to go throwing dinner parties. And besides, that’d be a disaster; I can’t cook nearly as well as everyone seems to expect me to be able to.”

“Meanwhile, I think Sirius could actually make a fairly good go of it if he wanted to,” Remus said, sounding distant. "He's not a bad cook, even if he won't admit to it." 

Remus drew his eyes away from the window and went back to staring at the kitchen counter, tapping his jagged fingernails down on the hard surface. 

Lily looked at him, a frown made equal parts of concern and irritation creasing a line between her eyebrows. Remus looked very serious, dark and worried and older than he ought to. He seemed to be deciding how to phrase whatever thought was on his mind.

She'd thought it would be a good idea, them both waiting for James and Sirius to come home, rather than standing vigil all alone in the darkness at their windows, but Remus seemed to be intent on resisting any attempt at cheerfulness, staring intently out of the window and drinking from his wine glass like it was both death sentence and lifeline. 

He might be better off alone, she thought. Remus always was a bit of a strange one. She could see how he'd get along with Sirius, now. Both of them were moody as all get out, given half the chance. 

Remus eventually stirred himself into motion, just a tiny jerk of his head upwards as he started to speak.

“What are we doing, with this whole— you know, this war thing?" he asked, finally. "I don't know how it's happened, now. It's just that nothing seems—” Remus cut himself off. He ran a hand through his hair, and turned to briefly glance out the window. "Nothing's right, at the moment. And I don't know—"

Lily shook her head, talking a generous gulp of her own wine. “I don’t know either,” she said. “At the moment, I’m just hoping James is alright.”

Remus frowned, and looked up at her, the creases on his forehead jagged and well settled into his skin.

“I’m sorry. Really. I—” he looked down at the glass in front of him, frowning at the tiny dregs of deep red liquid still resting at the bottom. Remus seemed to struggle with his words again.

“They’ve got each other’s backs, you know,” he said. “I’m sure—”

“I know that,” Lily snapped, folding her own hands in front of her and looking down at them. They were pale and neat, with her light freckles all blurring  “But they do the stupidest things, don’t act like you don’t worry, you've been staring out that window all night.”

Remus frowned, and looked very slightly affronted. “Have I?” he asked. “Maybe. I do worry about him—and James, of course. But I think—right now, with the way everything’s going—we sort of have to be optimistic about it." He looked to be concentrating very hard on the distortions in the reflected light on the base of the glass. "Even if we're not. About things going right, I mean—Sirius and James getting home, all of that." He sighed. "Maybe not having to go to a funeral this week. We have to keep hoping that things’ll get better—trying to believe that, too. Otherwise, we’ve not really got much left, when it comes down to it, do we?”

"Always so philosophical," Lily said lightly. "Remind me never to drink with you again.” She looked up from her hands to frown at him, pursing her lips in a way that always reminds her of her mother, or McGonagall.

"I don't know," she said, allowing a slight hint of _something_ —a coldness, maybe, an uncertainty or a well-hidden anger—into her voice. "You might be right." 

Remus nodded, and looked like he wished he hadn't spoken, and the flat was silent once more. 

It was still the only apartment with its lights on, but now there were two figures moving outside on the street, whispering excitedly to each other and striding quickly up to the entrance of the building with the tense postures of those who have just been in danger and are still expecting it to surprise them from behind every corner and out of every shadow. On this night, there were, in fact, a great many shadows and inscrutably dangerous corners, but, in apartment on the third floor, the lights did not go out all night, not until the dawn was stretching her pale fingers up over the horizon and all the inhabitants— four, now—were turning themselves in to sleep. 

The tall, thin man slept next the long-haired man on the sofa, the two of them pressed close together under a patchwork quilt. "Sirius," he said, very quietly, as Sirius, the other man, moved to get comfortable in their limited space. Lily and James had disappeared into the bedroom a quarter of an hour ago, and it was only the two of them left in the main living space of the flat. It was very quiet in the dark grey of the very early morning, and Remus spoke like he didn't want to disturb any of it; the silence, or the peculiar qualities of that dim early morning lightness. 

"Mm?" Sirius mumbled, and he put an arm over Remus' waist, pulling him in still closer. 

"Love you." Remus spoke softly, and turned himself onto his side to fit the length of his body comfortably against Sirius'.  

"Mmph," Sirius said, and nuzzled his face into the crook of Remus' neck. "Mm."

 


End file.
